


dark and divine

by mittagsfrau



Series: Hydra Husbands AUs [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Kingdom (TV 2014)
Genre: HYDRA Husbands, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittagsfrau/pseuds/mittagsfrau
Summary: Jack is beyond tired. He’s somewhere in the state of exhaustion where everything around him becomes fuzzy and muted. His eyelids feel leaden and he sways on his feet as he walks from the bathroom to his bed. It’s been long thirty-six hours since his head was on that pillow.
Relationships: Alvey Kulina/Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Hydra Husbands AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871758
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	dark and divine

Jack is beyond tired. He’s somewhere in the state of exhaustion where everything around him becomes fuzzy and muted. His eyelids feel leaden and he sways on his feet as he walks from the bathroom to his bed. It’s been long thirty-six hours since his head was on that pillow.

  
The mission was an absolute clusterfuck, shoddy intel, logistics dropped the ball on it and Jack had the lead because Brock was stuck on some conference where he had to do a panel on counter terrorism.

  
Jack really doesn’t want Brock’s job. He’s happy being Brock’s SIC. Being Commander of STRIKE Alpha fucking sucks.

  
As soon as he collapses on the bed, too tired to even get under the blanket, his phone rings. Jack groans. It’s three in the morning, so it’s probably Brock wanting to get picked up at the airport. No way in hell Jack is fit to drive. Brock can take a cab.He picks up anyway, wincing at the brightly lit screen and grunts an affirmative noise.

  
“Jack, this is Joe from the bar. Could you pick up your drunk ass boyfriend? He blocks one of the bathroom stalls, completely passed out. “  
Jack groans. Typical Brock. Went from the airport straight to his watering hole. “Be there in ten minutes”, Jack grumbles.

  
By the time he’s on the street, he’s pissed off. It’s a cool, foggy night and he shivers in his leather jacket. Jack is going to haul Brock’s carcass home and give him a firm talking to as soon as he’s lucid again.

  
The bar is dark and crowded and Joe nods towards the men’s room as soon as he spots Jack.

  
There Brock is, crumpled next to the toilet dressed in what Jack believes is his best suit. No tie, though, because Brock hates those things with a passion.

  
Jack pokes at him with the toe of his boot. The drunkard is not even twitching. Great. Now he has to carry him home like a fucking princess. He shoulders Brock in a fireman’s carry and staggers out of the bar. He’s getting too old for this shit. Thank God for the elevator. Jack would carry Brock to the moon and back in the field but this is taking the cake. Some bottles of booze are a whole different deal than a gunshot wound.

  
He blearily steps out of the elevator and stops short. At his apartment door stands Brock, keys in hand, overnight bag slung over his shoulder and wearing a murderous expression.  
“Tell me, that this isn’t what it looks like. Go ahead.” Brock’s voice cuts through the fog in Jack’s brain and he shakes his stupor off.  
“Tell me, what this looks like”, he counters and turns the unconscious man’s face to the light. “Joe called me to pick you up at the bar and I thought I just did.”

  
Brock’s eyes go comically wide and he drops his keys. “Holy fucking shit.”  
Jack shifts his burden back in place. “What are we going to do with him? He’s not waking up anytime soon.”  
A shiver runs down Jack’s spine as he sees the smile slowly forming on Brock’s face. Alarm bells are ringing somewhere in the back of his mind but he ignores them as always.   
Brock picks up his keys and unlocks the door. “Bring him in.”

  
Jack does what he’s told. He always follows Brock’s orders, in the field and at home, his commander gets to boss him around, no questions asked.

  
Brock leads him to the bedroom and makes him lay out his doppelganger on their bed. He switches on the lamp on the nightstand and sits down on the edge of the bed, studying the man’s face intently.   
“It’s fucking uncanny, ain’t it?”

  
Brock uses both of his hands to map out the features of the unconscious man. Up close he looks skinnier than Brock and older.   
Brock’s hands drop to the open collar of the man’s white dress shirt. He slowly unbuttons it all the way down, reverent like unwrapping a very precious gift.

  
Jack watches Brock run his hand from neck to navel, pushing the shirt open. He exposes more tan skin, a smooth chest and an impressive eight pack.   
“His abs is better than mine”, Brock remarks with an undertone Jack doesn’t like. He sits down behind Brock and wraps his arms around him. “You’re perfect just as you are”, Jack tries to reassure him. 

  
Brock frowns but turns back to the task. “Let’s see how I compare to the rest of him”, he says and opens the belt of the doppelganger.   
“Calvin Klein’s, really?” Brock sneers at the stranger’s choice of underwear. He tugs them down with more force than necessary but the man stays passed out.

  
“My dick is bigger”, Brock comments and Jack is relieved to see him smile again.   
“Help me to get the rest of his clothes off. I wanna see him, all of him.”  
Jack does what he’s told. The man is like a loose limbed, heavy and unwieldy doll but together they manage to undress him efficiently. 

  
Naked, he looks different from Brock. There are tattoos. “Christina” is inscribed on his left pectoral. There’s a cross on his left upper arm and a flaming skull on his right.   
Brock traces the name of the woman with a curious fingertip. “I didn’t see a wedding ring but that doesn’t mean anything. You picked him up at a bar. He probably was out chasing pussy and fell too deep into a bottle. Do you think he’s straight?”

  
“I don’t see how this matters”, Jack shrugs and palms the crotch of Brock’s pants that are already tented.   
Brock leans back into Jack’s embrace and tilts his head up for a lazy kiss. Jack indulges him.   
“I want to fuck him, want to watch you fuck him, too”, Brock whispers into the kiss.   
On a whim Jack roots through the pile of discarded clothes. He finds a wallet with a driver’s license.   
“His name is Alvey Kulina.”  
Jack unfolds a flyer from the bill compartment. “He’s a MMA fighter, retired, runs a gym in Venice, California.”

  
“No wonder he looks like that. If I owned a gym, I would be my best customer, too.” Brock’s hand is back on Alvey’s abs, tracing the individual muscles lazily.

  
Jack drops the wallet on the floor again and watches Brock crawl over their guest. He manipulates his limbs until Alvey’s arms are raised and his palms face up. Brock interlaces their fingers and leans in to kiss his lips.  
“He smells like a distillery”, Brock remarks and wrinkles his nose in an adorable way. Jack can’t help but smile. He adores him.

  
“Take a picture of us”, Brock demands and keeps kissing his mirror image softly. Jack takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures. They look good together.   
Brock sits up on Alvey’s lap and takes off his shirt. He’s paler, didn’t get to soak up California’s sun like Alvey. 

  
“Get naked and come here.” Brock holds out a hand for Jack and smiles impishly. Jack struggles out of his clothes, clumsy and eager to please. By the time he’s done, Brock is straddling his doppelganger naked, too.   
Brock palms Alvey’s limp dick. “I wish he wasn’t too tanked to get it up. Just imagine, Jackie, me riding him while you fuck his ass.”  
Jack’s cock twitches with interest and lies down on the bed next to them, watching them intently. 

  
Brock uses his knees to part Alvey’s legs. “I wanna do him face to face. Hand me that pillow.”  
Together they wrestle it under Alvey’s hips and Brock hooks his arms under the man’s knees and tilts his legs back. Brock looks at his ass for a long time. “Jackie, help me with his legs, he’s a fucking deadweight. I’m gonna need my hands free to crank that tight hole open.”  
After some careful maneuvering, Jack sits back against the headboard, Alvey in his embrace, Jack has hooked his legs in the crook of his arms, exposing him to Brock and his eager, slicked up fingers.

  
At the first touch at his hole, Alvey frowns and grumbles unhappily, trying to close his legs. Jack kisses his cheek and nuzzles him until he settles down again.   
He starts whining again as Brock slides the first finger in. Jack hushes him and makes a suggestion: “suck his dick to distract him from getting his ass stretched out.”

  
Brock eagerly inhales Alvey’s limp dick and sucks him. Jack watches Alvey’s toes curl and feels his back arch. He squirms but the frown lines on his handsome face smoothen again.   
Jack gets distracted by watching his face, the way his thick, dark lashes flutter and his lips part as he sighs softly. He nearly misses Brock lining up. 

  
“Brock, you’re not doing him bare. I know it’s tempting but you don’t know if he’s clean. He has some old track marks.”  
Brock crumbles but complies. As he pushes in, eyes half lidded and his face slack with pleasure, Alvey starts struggling again. This time Jack has to tighten his hold on him or he would have bucked Brock off.   
“Fuck, he’s tight”, Brock groans and his eyes fall shut as he bottoms out.

  
Alvey whimpers and tries to press his legs together again. He lets himself soothed by Jack kissing his frowning mouth and Brock palming his dick again.   
Brock fucks him sweetly, slowly and languidly he rolls his hips, whispering praise the whole time. Alvey’s dick chubs up a little from Brock’s ministrations and his mouth seeks Jack’s on its own. Charmed, Jack kisses him deeply. Alvey tastes like whiskey and slobbers clumsily all over him.

  
Brock moans and picks up his pace. Jack can tell how close he is. His arms are shaking, his hips are jerking and his nostrils flare.   
Usually Brock prefers bottoming, getting fucked hard enough to forget his own name. Jack doesn’t mind switching from time to time or fucking Brock nice and slow for a change. Brock is a quiet lover, he needs more stimulation to get to the point of cursing colorfully and groaning like a dying man.   
Brock fucks Alvey hard now, Jack can feel the force of his thrusts, jolting Alvey’s body in his arms.

  
The doppelganger frowns again and this time he opens his eyes. His gaze is unfocused but he looks at Brock, who looks back with a smirk.   
“Wakey, Wakey, sleeping beauty. Your prince charming is here to take your cherry”, Brock mocks him between grunts.   
Alvey’s eyes widen in horror as he looks at his mirror image. Then he looks down and tries to twist away. Jack has to put him into a choke hold to get him under control again. The man is strong and well trained.

  
He fought to win points, though. Jack and Brock fight to kill. He stands no chance and Brock finishes with a shudder and a sigh.   
Alvey has stopped fighting them by the time Brock pulls out. Brock is sweaty and out of breath but his smile is radiant. Jack can’t help but smile back.   
“Now it’s your turn, Jackie, split that tight ass open with your dick.”  
Alvey tries some sort of jiu-jitsu move on Jack but ends up face down on the mattress with his arms twisted behind his back.  
Brock laughs and slaps his ass. “Naughty.”  
Alvey flinches and starts to run his mouth. “You goddamn bastards won’t get away with that, the police… “  
“Sunshine, we’re feds”, Brock interjects, “we can make you disappear if you don’t comply. How does Guantanamo sound to you?”  
It’s an empty threat but Alvey doesn’t know. He goes limp and shuts his mouth.

  
As Jack parts Alvey’s buttocks and inspects him – looking swollen and sore but no blood – the man tenses again, this time he’s practically shaking with fear.   
“Please, stop, I won’t tell anybody. Let me go, don’t do this to me.”  
Brock tousles Alvey’s hair and coos. “Are you that intimidated by what Jackie is packing? Don’t worry, princess, it’s gonna fit. Jackie will make you take it.”

  
Jack didn’t expect Alvey to start crying. He sobs so hard, his shoulders are shaking. A good man would have lost his erection, Jack’s cock twitches and weeps a drop of precum.   
He rolls on a condom, slicks himself up and presses in. The resistance is formidable, this tight hole is clenched shut. Jack might be bad man but he isn’t a monster. He turns Alvey over on his back again.   
“Suck his dick again, Brock, maybe this will make him more pliant.”

  
It does. Brock’s considerable skills have Alvey moaning and thrusting his hips up eagerly. Jack uses this opportunity to add more lube by twisting two slick fingers into Alvey’s ass.   
This time he pushes smoothly half way in.   
Alvey curses and tries to twist away. All he manages is shoving his dick deeper into Brock’s throat, who hums happily and is busy fingering his own ass.   
Jack carefully fucks Alvey open, each stroke in a little deeper. Alvey is still very tight but Jack finally bottoms out. 

  
Brock pulls off his dick and looks at the place where their bodies meet. “There you go, good boy.” Alvey whines unhappily in response.   
“Get him to the edge of the bed”, Brock orders him, “he’s hard enough for me to sit on his dick.”  
Alvey lets himself be dragged in position and shakes his head frantically as Brock straddles him. Brock smiles down on him and rolls a condom on Alvey’s hard cock. A generous helping of lube later and Brock sinks down on him. He leans back in Jack’s arms and together they move languidly, using Alvey for their pleasure. 

  
At first Alvey just lies there, taking it up the ass from Jack and letting his cock be used by Brock. Then he bares his teeth, grabs Brock’s hips and thrusts up hard.   
“Is that what you want, you fucking cock slut?” His voice is a snarl and Brock’s eyes roll back in his head. “Like that, sunshine, fuck me hard.”  
Alvey complies, fucking up into Brock savagely, aiming to hurt but all he manages is giving the man the ride of his life. The slap of skin on skin is loud in the room and Alvey starts to sweat. Jack is in heaven, too, Alvey impales himself on his cock, over and over as he fucks Brock’s ass. 

  
They lose themselves in sweat soaked pleasure until they collapse into a tangle of limbs. 

  
Alvey wakes as the sun rises. He woke in unfamiliar places before so he isn’t surprised as he doesn’t know where he ended up after drowning his sorrows in that seedy bar last night.

  
He remembers ordering a bottle of whiskey and then nothing. The room looks like a bedroom, not a hotel room. So he went home with someone last night. That someone has an arm thrown over his middle.

  
Alvey doesn’t like how heavy and dense it feels. He takes a deep breath before he looks down. His vision is still swimming but the arm definitely belongs to a man. It’s muscular, hairy and way too fucking big to be a woman’s.   
No need to panic. Alvey gets that three beer bisexuality. He is a flirt and it gets worse when he’s drunk. 

  
There’s pain throbbing hotly behind his eyes, a hangover from hell. It almost drowns out this raw, dull pain in an unfamiliar place. He shifts his hips and winces as he feels the sheets stick to his bare ass. Did he let that dude fuck him? 

  
Alvey’s heart beats faster and he slowly turns his head to look at the other man.   
There are two of them. A tall, pale and freckled one and one sprawled on top of this one. He moves in his sleep and as he turns his face towards Alvey, he nearly screams.   
The dark haired one looks like his twin. Hastily he gets up and frantically dresses as the room stops spinning. When he’s out of the door he starts running. 


End file.
